


Through Grief Do Daisies and Peonies Bloom

by MysticalShard



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ardyn's a dick, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Depressing, Feels, Not Happy, One Shot, Pain, Psychological Torture, Regret, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unsettling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticalShard/pseuds/MysticalShard
Summary: “Are you willing to choose, advisor?” That chilling voice called. A voice slicked with oil; a smile as gritty as slime; their golden eyes were trained on him in delight. “Your beloved prince’s life, or the gunslinger who lacks any aid to you. You can only pick one: which will it be?” Ardyn cooed, the knife in his hand was coated in blood as he twirled it.There Noctis and Prompto laid curled on the floor clutching their throats, a pool of crimson leaking underneath them.Their necks had been slit.For once in his life… Ignis Scientia had no plan. He couldn’t think.





	Through Grief Do Daisies and Peonies Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Short A/N: I wanted to give my other two stories a little break 'n such. Don't worry, I'll get right back to 'em, I miss 'em already... It's just a tiny prompt I've been working on so it isn't much.
> 
> Iggy doesn’t lose his sight until after Ch13 in here. This was around the area where they couldn’t conjure their weapons. Prepare for the angst, feels, and edge.

 

 

  
There was nothing he could do.

 

How did this all go so wrong?

 

The frigid atmosphere of Zegnautus Keep chilled his skin, the metal floor as cold as ice underneath his glove’s tips. Ignis laid on the ground weak and anxious, his glasses hung off the bridge of his nose disheveledly. He wasn't able to gain stature as he watched helplessly.

“Are you willing to choose, advisor?” That chilling voice called. A voice slicked with oil; a smile as gritty as slime; their golden eyes were trained on him in delight. “Your beloved prince’s life, or the gunslinger who lacks any aid to you. You can only pick one: which will it be?” Ardyn cooed, the knife in his hand was coated in blood as he twirled it.

There Noctis and Prompto laid curled on the floor clutching their throats, a pool of crimson leaking under them.

Their necks had been slit.

That damn chancellor stood over them with a smile on his face. The knife danced in his hand flauntingly. 

The same knife he took the life of Lady Lunafreya with.

The same knife he used to slice open Noctis and Prompto’s throats.

Ardyn was to blame… and now he’s placed Ignis on the spot.

Pain squeezed his chest as he swallowed hard; the man he’d sworn protection over was dying right before him. The King’s best friend was by his side coughing painfully, the life fading from his pleading indigo eyes.

For once in his life… Ignis Scientia had no plan. He couldn’t think.

_Bloody hell -- damn it all!_

_Gladiolus growled ferociously from where he was captured. A large blob of stringy sludge glued his limbs to the floor: the_ Starscourge _. Gladio called for him once more despite the scourge burning his skin. He was like a chained mutt._

 

          “My, don’t tell me you can’t choose! Are you willing to let your king suffer? To be cast aside only to bleed for a contemptible MT?” The Accursed leaned down to meet the blonde’s face with sheer mockery.

          “Ba…stard…” Noctis choked out in pained gurgles. His dull blue eyes pierced daggers at Ardyn who didn’t seem phased in the slightest. The Chancellor only laughed. Just pitiful.

Ardyn pressed the knife to the raven’s cheek and cut a sleek line on it.

          "Unhand him,” Ignis grit his teeth darkly. He was on high alert.

Then waltzed around them. Taunting them with his demeanor alone.

Nocis couldn’t do anything but lay as his vision blurred, as death waited by his door. He reached a hand outward and clasped Prompto’s other hand, the blonde choked.

          “Y-you’re not gonna die on m-me, ok?” The raven spoke the best he could. “Don’t you d-die on me…”

Prompto was nodding.

The gunslinger’s whimpers shattered his heart.

Their king’s voice was pained, drenched in agony, a plea that crushed their hearts. Without Noctis, the world would be thrown into darkness for eternity. WIthout him, countless lives would be taken. They needed him -- he was their prince, he was their king. He was the chosen and he was the one who was tasked to save the world. He can’t die.

 

          “Ignis,” Gladio seethed from under the scourge’s hold, his molten caramel eyes scorching with rage. “Don’t you even think about it….!”

 _‘Don’t think for a second we can’t save them.’_ He could feel Gladio's glower on him. _‘We’re not goin’ out dyin’ like this. Not without those two.’_

 

How he wished it were like that.

 

Ignis’ emerald eyes flickered around for something -- for an answer -- anything!

 

His heart threatened to burst, his blood ceased to run, his tactical mind came to a dead end.

An invisible noose hung at his throat.

Suddenly he started to hear Noct’s voice dwindle. His movements became sluggish as his eyes began fading to grey. He was fighting to keep his eyes open.

Prompto sniveled the prince’s name: “N-Noct…” his voice betrayed him.

Noct’s breathing was barely evident at this moment.

          “My, oh, my. It seems our prince is knocking at Death’s door so soon. Do you think he can see the lights already, or perhaps he sees his beloved Lunafreya greeting him with open arms?”

Ignis grit his teeth.

“You might want to hurry.”          

          “Iggy…” Gladio said his name.

“Do choose wisely.”     

     “Iggy, think about what you’re doing…!”

“Tick-tock-tick-tock, time’s running out,” Ardyn chimed.

“ _Ignis._ ”

“Which will it be?”

His mind washed around like a whirlpool. Everything was out of order, everything was all over the place. He was losing composure, he was losing air.

Gladio’s protests. Noct’s struggle. Prompto’s murmured whimpers. Ardyn’s sickening chortles.

They all ground his brain to mush.

With a painful grunt, Ignis forced himself onto his own two legs. He was slouched but his eyes carried the brilliant blaze of fire itself.

He recited similar wording from years ago:

          “I swore an oath to stand and protect Noct until the very end,” his emerald eyes glared intensely.

They knew what was to happen next. Ardyn’s grin grew. Ignis stumbled to his prince never batting an eye at the Accursed, the prince laid in a pond of his own blood, skin as white as snow, eyes closed and his chest barely rising. He didn’t have much time left… If this continued Prince Noctis would die. Ignis scooped the raven into his arms. The man was weak and frail, Ignis’ stomach churned as anger and sorrow battled inside him.

Then he saw it.

Prompto’s big indigo eyes linking with his. Ice chipped his blood to a gelid sensation. His heart sank. There was a dagger puncturing his heart.

Prompto was a fish out of the water. He couldn’t breathe or move.

In those eyes as blue and vast as the ocean was… pain. They were dilating with fear, sorrow, longing, confusion, and most of all, guilt.

They stared and stared and stared drowning him in the sea of emotions.

It was suffocating.

They knew Noctis was more vital than Prompto could ever be. What makes this horrifyingly depressing is that Ignis knows he can’t pick Prompto. The bitter truth is that he wouldn’t be of use to the world when it is driven into chaos. He’s not the prince, he’s not royalty, he’s not the chosen one who will purge their star of the scourge. He’s not the one who will save the world; he’s just a boy who helps the chosen on his quest. So it was apparent to choose Noctis.

Prompto knew his end was nigh.

They were jarred, however, they softened. Prompto didn’t need to speak to get his point across; his eyes spoke for him instead.

Prompto wanted to let him know it was okay. He knew he was useless to them.

Ignis felt that raw sting of tears prick his eyes -- a hole expanded in his chest. He tore his gaze from the bleeding blonde and paced to the exit. Ardyn released Gladio from the blob’s hold and the Chancellor waltzed around the blonde’s fragile frame. Ignis couldn’t bring himself to look, he couldn’t bring himself to watch as the gunslinger was left to greet death without a proper send-off.

Not even a second could pass when Gladiolus stumbled over in a heap of rage. He tried to get to Prompto but there was some barrier in his wake. Ardyn tsked at the Shield’s attempt.

There was nothing they could do. They couldn’t get Prompto even if they tried.

This all had to be a nightmare. It had to be.

Without looking back Ignis carried Noctis out of the room, Gladio growling and placing a hand on his shoulder.

          “We could’ve gotten him,” he said.

        “We couldn’t have. Not with Noct’s life on the line.” It hurt to say, Ignis couldn’t even recognize his own voice… why it was steady.

It was a sick game.

They left Prompto to die. They were the only family he’d ever known and they left him. Just cast him aside like trash. They couldn’t save him.

This would continue to haunt his dreams.

The liveliest of the group. The youngest of the family.

Ardyn towered over the blonde and lost his smile. Prompto had a glare of determination. “Why consist of playing brave? You do realize they threw you away?”

Ardyn didn’t need to ask the question but he did. It intrigued him.

In those blue eyes read _‘Because they know I’m useless to them now. They need to protect Noct. I’ll gladly sacrifice myself if that’s what it takes.’_

_‘My death won’t be in vain. I know it’_

Ardyn had never been more intrigued. This boy would gladly die for his King when Ardyn’s people would coward away from him as he reigned. Why be so loyal to that prince? He didn’t get it.

          “Shame it will be.” The man cooed as the blonde laid.

That day, seeds were planted.

That day, they truly lost their sun.

 

* * *

 

Ignis awoke from another nightmare.

It was the same nightmare, the one that haunted him for nearly ten years. Those big blue eyes that depended on him, the young king lying in a pool of his own blood… The day he killed Prompto.

The gunslinger would stand before him, his throat gouged out and his eyes duller than a rock.

 

 _‘Why did you leave me to die?’_ He’d say. _‘Iggy, you could’ve saved me. You could’ve saved us both.’_

_‘You let me die.’_

 

Time and time again he would try to deny it. But it was true. Nothing could or will change the fact that he was the one who killed him. He chose his fate for him. It was unfair.

Back when they healed Noctis of his fatal injury he was comatose for two days. When he came to he was a mess; Prompto had died and there was nothing they could do. He was furious, saddened. It was the hardest on him -- Noctis lost everything. They bickered and argued, nothing was going to change that Prompto didn’t deserve this. All they could do was wait and hope.

This room wasn’t going to hold them. They were there on a mission and they were going to carry it out. That day they managed to get to the Crystal only to have Noctis taken from them.

They lost their king and Ignis lost his eyesight. Ardyn was as cunning as a snake.

 

It was ripped from him just like the sun was from Eos. No more lights. He was robbed of his world in one movement. An indescribable pain flourished through his chest as he submerged further and further into the depths of hopeless darkness.

 

Plunged into a void of oily thick black darkness that you can't breathe in -- that you _can't_ escape from. You're just sinking, and sinking, and sinking, hoping it will all get better, hoping if you'll be able to see the various lurid colors of the world once again. It won't ever be like that again. A frigid hand gripped his heart causing him to feel a tangible chill breeze inside him. It was uncomfortable. _Unbearable._  

 

It was only a matter of time before the Chancellor took what he wanted.

Now Ignis sat in the looming darkness covered in cold sweat.

His anxiety rooted like weeds.

Later on that day he made it to Hammerhead. He’s gotten better at hearing his surroundings, he didn’t really need a cane anymore. Even though he could only see darkness he still continued on.

When he arrived he was greeted with Cindy. He couldn’t see her but he could hear her lively tone and how much she’s grown.

A woman of charm, someone Prompto liked.

It must have been hard on Cindy too. Someone you were so used to being around had been dead for nearly ten years.

They talked for a while. For once it felt like old times. They negotiated what the Glaives and hunters should do for this year. For the past nine things have been going well, some curatives were hard to come by but they were fairing pretty good.

After feeling confident, Cindy pumped a fist and set her objective. “Sometimes I wonder what this girl would do without you boys.” She grinned. “Sittin’ around in this darkness can really drain a person. This’ll be another one of ‘em scoutin’ missions, leave it to lil’ ole’ me.” The greasemonkey flashed that sun-blessed smile, her brilliant green eyes added to her confidence.

          “I don’t doubt that. You’ve done quite the lot for us in the past.” He returned the gesture with a smile. She was a woman he could count on.

       “You bet. Don’t go on and hurt yourself, y’hear?”

    “Of course.” Part of him wished the same for her. She stopped midway and turned to him, “Don’t take it too hard, you could use the rest.”

He nodded.

          “Take care,” and she swayed off.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know why Gladio placed a hand on his shoulder. He was a good friend.

The man gave a reassuring vibe but his face told a different story. He told him Iris was getting better at her hunts. Daemon Slayer Iris they’d call her. Gladio was genuinely happy that his younger sister developed into a woman who can thrive on her own.

Just a little longer before all of this was over.

          “We’ve come this far, not gonna back out now.” He said with a smile.

It’ll be a little longer before Noct returns. How he wishes he could see him with his very own eyes, how much his King has grown.

They didn’t come all this way to just stop and wallow in darkness, they were fully prepared for what was to come next. They had the destiny to fulfill, they had a job to carry out. Sitting there and moping about reminiscences of the past won’t get you anywhere. It’s funny, he recalled Aranea saying the exact same thing: ‘Quit moping and keep hoping.’ That woman knew how to keep moving forward, a person who never viewed her comrades’ death as a weakness but a symbol of strength to keep going.

The seeds began to sprout with small little buds.

 

* * *

 

Today was the day they would bring an end to this madness.

They all walked side by side to the Citadel.

Ifrit the Infernian put up a challenge against them. If it weren’t for Shiva’s grace they would have had a much harder time. They gave everything for this moment. They arrived.

They didn’t dare miss the wild mess of red-violet hair.

          “Welcome, welcome!” Ardyn stood before the throne’s steps and bowed. “Welcome to my humble abode. I do hope you enjoy my lavish interior.” He grinned.

Noctis would have grit his teeth and spat at the man if he were still his young naive self, but he’s older now. He’s mature. Bahamut molded him. Instead of speaking with bellowing hatred he glared with an intricate emotion.

          “Off my chair, Jester. The King sits there.”

Ardyn stomped his foot on the chair.

That was no way to greet a king. How rude. There was anger in his glare that quickly hid behind his facade. He plopped back into his seat and leaned on his other hand. That grin on his face grew and grew like a slithering snake.

          “Why don’t we permit our guests a special gift?” He called out. “Don’t be shy. Meet your new friends -- oh wait, should I say old friends?”

It took them a second to realize Ardyn wasn’t talking to them.

Ignis sensed an awry presence. Something wasn’t right, his instincts were nearly on edge. He’s never felt this but deep down it felt like he knew.

Someone walked to Ardyn’s side. He couldn’t see but he could make out the void of tension. He heard Gladio and Noct gasp sharply. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t understand.

There right by Ardyn’s side was a young man with blonde locks and dots dusting his cheeks.

He heard Noctis’ voice whisper… so unfamiliar.

          “ _Prompto…_ ”

Ignis couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t want to believe it.

          “Ah, reunions are always a tear-jerker. I feel a tad bit emotional.” Ardyn ran a finger across his eye like he was wiping away a tear. As if a person like him could actually cry.

There Prompto stood with an intricate stature, his skin was a ghostly white that had black veins and his eyes were a poisonous red. He was still his young self, had he not aged? What had he done to him? This Prompto looked dead, stoic, no essence that breathed life. It was like a hollowed out shell. His neck… it had the scar where his throat was slit, however, it was dried and below the skin was black ooze.

Prompto was right there.

          “This has to be some kind of sick trick,” Gladio growled tensely like a silent bark, his senses were all on alert.

       “I assure you this is no trick--”

    “Quit your bullshit!” The Guardian hissed. They all saw him die, there was no way in hell he was still alive. “There’s no way that can be him. We _saw_ him die, we _watched_ him die--”

          “But it _is_ ,” Ardyn cooed. He was disgusted with Gladio’s anger but delighted over his denial.

The Accursed stood on his two legs with a dastard smile. He stepped closer to the blonde and pat him on the head. “You see boys, I couldn’t let the fun dwindle even if it a little. Your poor friend was lying at Death’s door all forgotten… Then a wonderful idea came about. What if our little gunslinger would be of use to us in the future?” His hand slid to Prompto’s chin and he cupped it. “What if I were to mold his shell of a body into a daemon that meets my standards?”

This all had to be a sick dream.

That was no longer the Prompto they knew. Just the husk of a shell.

          “Ah, and the best part: there was no barrier. It was all an illusion I conjured to keep you boys moving. You could’ve pushed a little harder and rescued him, you could’ve saved him.”

The room’s temperature dropped to freezing. Cold sweat beaded on all of their head as absolute anger, horror and disbelief flashed through their eyes. Gladio barked at him claiming he was lying. But he wasn’t. They could’ve saved him.

 

_‘Why did you leave me to die?’_

_‘Iggy, you could’ve saved me. You could’ve saved us both.’_

_‘You let me die.’_

 

He could hear his sharper than any blade. It haunted him, a chill running down his spine as he realized his nightmares have become a reality. The advisor couldn’t keep his stoic mask forever. He craned his head to the floor in silent anguish. He really was the one who killed him. He did leave him to die.

          “You know, he was so certain you lot would return and avenge his plaintive sacrifice. How sad. His soul slumbers in a forgotten tomb now.”

Images of the photographer flashed through his mind. A brightening smile, his clumsy personality, him _laughing_ with Noct.

        “Don’t speak of him as if you knew him.” Ignis suddenly found himself spitting. That man didn’t know Prompto -- who gave him the right to speak of their friend? Of their brother?

     “His sacrifice was nowhere near plaintive than your piteous games… Don’t speak of him as someone so low.” He kept his voice firm but his eyes were steel blades aimed at the man. He clenched his fists. “A man is no king without his subjects. You call yourself one when you jest around like a fool.”

He could feel their stares on him.

Ardyn smirked… but it felt as if it were out of pity.

In a flash of blue, the Sword of The Father appeared in Noct’s hand, his eyes as red as blood. But he didn’t look upset, he had a determined glare. “What you’ve done…” He clenched his blade until his knuckles blistered a painful white. It hurt him the most because he was Prompto’s best friend.

_Unacceptable._

Suddenly, Ardyn shot out poisonous violet balls directly into Ignis and Gladiolus. They both kneeled in pain but it wasn’t enough to knock them out. Noctis grew worried for his comrades but Ardyn warped to the top of the rubble leading outside. “Come, Chosen King,” he called. They warped outside.

As Ignis rose to his footing he could hear Gladio inhale sharply. Prompto’s footsteps echoed as he walked down the steps to their level.

He stood in their wake. Gladio called his name but it had no effect. He prompted that Prompto was still in there, that he was still present in there.

As fast as lightning Prompto rushed at the two, the Guardian moving in his way calling forth his sword and shield instantly. The daemon delivered a strong kick to the shield's side which skid Gladio two inches back. How strong had he gotten? They brawled and brawled. It felt like an eternity of pain. An elongated period of non-stop adrenaline. They didn’t want to hurt him… they didn’t want to hurt their friend. At some points, Ignis rushed at him with daggers ready at his blind spot but the scourge would find a way to block him.

What were they supposed to do? They were already weakened by Ardyn’s magic.

This lasted longer than twenty-five minutes and they were already getting tired. Ignis’ movements slowed to a sluggish state while Gladio’s defense weakened.

          “Prompto,” Ignis would say, “we don’t wish to fight you.” But the daemon would keep going, and keep pushing, and keep fighting. It was no use.  
At one point Ignis was swiped away; he watched as Gladio and Prompto fought. Those used to be smiles, now they’re in pain and anguish. Gladio wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer Ignis was sure.

The sandy blonde rushed back into the fight. It raged on until Prompto managed to injure his leg severely. He heard Gladio yell his name, he heard his rushed footsteps--

_BANG!_

The sound of a gunshot was deafening. Gladio kneeled to the floor clutching his side. Prompto had a gun in his hand trained on him.

Not again. He won’t have anyone dying again.

Faster than the blink of an eye, Ignis rushed forward and tackled the blonde to the floor. He straddled and held him down. The daemon wasn’t putting up a fight… he just stared blankly at the advisor. Ignis was ready to finish this.

          “End it.”

Ignis’ eyes widened. Confusion was all that was shown on his face.

          “End it,” the daemon repeated. Ignis couldn’t believe his ears; he wanted to say he was going crazy but he wasn’t. “There is no doubt your friend’s soul passed years ago, yet I… am experiencing an odd sensation.”

Gladiolus warned him that it could be a trap. He wanted to believe it was something like that but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could feel the truth in the daemon’s words despite how alarming that was. The way he spoke was definitely different than their Prompto, he usually had a bubbly tone but now it sounded so dead. He really was gone.

          “I am not your comrade and neither are you my ally… but some tendency is telling me not to harm either of you. There’s no resentment. I feel… peculiar. Is this what humans define as sorrow?”

Tears. There were thick tears streaming down Prompto’s expressionless face.

          “I do not understand. Why is such sadness present if I am not sad? This body feels...”

Just like Prompto.

He just feels for people, animals, beings, objects. He feels. He’s long dead but his body still feels for him.

And then the daemon repeats it:

          “End it so I may rest,” he requested. “End it so he may move on with peace at hand.”

Slow, so slow, he hesitantly places his quaking hands to the daemon’s throat and squeezes like the vice grip of a boa constrictor. Each second he applied more pressure, the more he heard the demon grunt in discomfort and pain the more he leaned in and pressed harder.

It hurt.

 

Visions of that one timid overweight child in elementary school shying around Noct.

 

That beam of sunlight in high school who always brought life and light with him, he was always smiling.

 

That twenty-year-old with his styled hair, smiling.

 

The body of said boy captured in his hold, smiling.

 

Then with one last breath, the daemon lays motionless and Ignis is quaking.

 

He’s on the edge.

 

Because he killed the child twice.

 

Ignis finally broke into a pained scream.

Gladio crawled by the tormented advisor and comforted him. Not like a friend, but like a brother.

Prompto died with a smile and eventually his body faded into thick black clouds of smoke.

 

* * *

   
Noctis had long defeated Ardyn, the man withered away like cinders from a dying flame. Some part of him felt pity for the old king. Noctis meets his brothers outside the Citadel, they’re saluting him as he walks up the stairs, their moral support ushered onto him before he goes off to sacrifice. Then he says their names.

Gladio.

Ignis.

_...Prompto._

As they bow, they could see the tears immediately prickling his eyes; he can see Prompto’s soul smiling at him. He bows with Ignis and Gladio, and Noctis nods.

Their king stood before them, weary and content, a full-fledged man clad in prestigious honor even when he was caked in dirt and dust. The daemons rose like creatures of the undead from their graves, beasts large and small climbing from the deathly sludge pooling from underneath, their whispering barks called to them.

Noctis never allowed his thoughts to betray him.

Confidence burrowed in their hearts and made them act. Gladio called his broadsword and shield. Ignis summoned his daggers and gripped them tightly.

 

* * *

 

  
The sun rises, Gladio and Ignis are welcoming the warmth that’s been absent for ten long years. It felt good: the lukewarm rays bathing them in a rich light, the heat they craved to feel since years in the cold darkness. It’s all over now.

Suddenly, Ignis feels a hand press against his back tersely and rub in circles. Another hand nudged his shoulder. Ignis says something to Gladio thinking it’s him, but Gladio says “No, I’m over here.”

 

Ignis hitches.

 

_He knows._

 

But it’s not just two of the same hands, there are two different hands pressing on his back. He can’t see them, but he knows exactly who are the two behind him.

He hears that chipper voice. They delivered a message.

 

He wanted to cry.

 

He started laughing.

 

          “Has the sun been gone that long it’s messed with your head?” Gladio smirks.

 

Ignis takes his visor off and looks at Gladio with his foggy irises.

       “Yes, perhaps the sun’s absence has driven me mad.” He bitterly laughs with tears in his eyes.

Somewhere along the line, Ignis hears the two voices chime in laughter behind him.

    "Whatever you say," The Guardian reassured a smile.

Ignis and Gladio finally walk away acknowledging that the world is saved and the sun is restored. The wind brushed against their cheeks in a calming sense. He knows now that Prompto never blamed him for any of it. He didn’t kill him. He’ll have a reason to keep going: keep living for him, for both of them.

Noctis and Prompto are long dead, but they will cope.

They’ll always be with him.

The buds blossomed into daisies and peonies. They wrapped around him, holding him together. Grief and sorrow pollinated his heart in a way that flourished beautiful flowers to watch over.

Ignis remembers the words like it was yesterday.

The words would forever be cherished in his heart, in his being, in his soul.

  
_‘Thank you.’_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Daisies - Love, cheerfulness, loyalty, innocence, purity.  
> Peonies - Expressing indignation or shame, symbolizes a happy life.


End file.
